


Where There Is Quiet

by Whimsy_Bird



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkward Boners, Awkward Flirting, Awkward everything honestly, Awkwardness, Comfort, Cuddling, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Lots of delicious UST, Love Confessions, My Dragon Age OC, My First AO3 Post, Oh! And UST, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 07:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whimsy_Bird/pseuds/Whimsy_Bird
Summary: Alistair and Winnie share a quiet moment in the dark. Their relationship is still new, they're still a little shy, and there's a fraught uncertainty that exists between the cracks of what they haven't yet said.In Summary: Rain showers, sharing a tent, and finding sanctuary in darkness.





	Where There Is Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> “You need to know that lovely places exist and you can go there, when things go wrong, and it’s a place of solace.”  
― Charlotte Eriksson
> 
> This work is unbeta'd. Please forgive any misspellings or grammar mistakes, and feel free to alert me to them.

"I've always loved the rain."

She says it low, like a secret to be kept. There is nothing scary about the admission - nothing covert or remarkable - but she has never before said it to anyone, and her chest feels lighter after the words take flight.

Alistair lays curled behind her, chest solid at her back. His lips are on her neck as he responds in kind to her, careful and quiet in the dark of their tent. "Is that so?"

She nods. "Not thunderstorms; but, light showers - those are nice." Thunderstorms terrify her, ominous as they are - but, the quiet patter of the rain beyond is pleasant.

"I rather fancy the rain myself," Alistair smiles against her skin. His large hands splay over her belly, over the soft fabric of her sleep robes. She wants to feel his skin on hers. She wishes she were wearing less.

Winnifred swallows and pushes that thought back. Far, far back. "Do you?" She asks. It is redundant, but she has little else to say and she'd like to continue hearing the warm honey of his voice in her ear. That, and she's blushing. Maker, she's blushing.

"Yes," his answer is earnest. "What with the wet and the cold and the gloomy, grey skies…"

"It's not so bad." Winnifred curls her hands over Alistair's, weaving her slender fingers between his thick, calloused ones. His hands are nice - weathered, but soft, strong but gentle. And warm.

Alistair gives her fingers a light squeeze and pulls her closer. "You know, I'm surprised you feel that way."

Understandable, given how much she complains while being _ in _ the rain. But she is not in the rain now. She is in her tent. She is dry, and she is very warm beside a handsome Warden. She can enjoy the rain for the moment.

"I never had to worry much about it in the Circle. There were little luxuries, such as walls." Looking to get a laugh, she asks:

"Do you remember walls? Kept the place sturdy, and warm. Not wet."

Alistair chuckles at that. "Can't say I do. What do they look like again?"

Winnifred smiles. "You know. Tall, thick. Made of stone or wood - even plaster. They're usually arranged like a box."

"_ Oh walls _! I haven't been inside of those in forever. Do you miss them?"

"Dearly."

They share a laugh before it falls quiet again. There is a long stretch of silence, broken only by the whisper of the shower outside. Winnifred's thoughts turn contemplative.

"You know, I used to listen to the rain as a child. It helped me sleep." _ It kept away the nightmares. _ "When I was brought to the Circle, I would listen to the rain to remind myself that there was more out there. I... hadn't felt the rain in years. Not before joining the order, that is."

Strong arms tighten their grip around her. The world falls into perspective. She's not there anymore. She's here. The air smells like fresh dirt and pine and Alistair. Maker, she hadn't realized she was falling apart till he pushed her back together.

She takes a breath. "I suppose at some point it began to mean something to me. A freedom of some sort. I would know the feel of the rain when I left the hold of the tower." She shakes her head. Freedom has not been so sweet as she had imagined. "It was merely a romantic fancy, in retrospect."

“You don’t feel free?”

“Sometimes,” She says. She can sense he’s about to make a discussion of it and hurries to change the subject. “I had a lot of silly dreams in that tower.”

Alistair bites the bait, poor as it is. He's sweet like that. "It makes sense," he says. "We all dream of something outlandish. I dream of mice waltzing around a giant wheel of cheese."

Winnifred twists onto her back so that she may look at him. "Does that happen terribly often?"

His eyes crinkle at the corner, warm brown turned dark and dancing in the gloom. "Most nights."

"And the others?"

His grin becomes bashful. This close she can see the way his face falters. "That's a secret." 

She's not sure what to make of that, but heat flushes her cheeks regardless. "Do you have very many secrets?"

Alistair laughs. It's a tad bit awkward, a little forced. But _ he's _ awkward, and Winnifred knows when to let him be. They know each other well now - better than before, at least. As well as they can for the time being. There's always an unspoken barrier between them. It is intangible, and not even very formidable; it is in fact far from unbreachable, but it is there, hard and intimidating, and neither one is willing to cross it. Not yet. But, they've toyed with the thought, danced as close to one another as they dared. The intimacy came naturally. The words? Not so much.

Alistair recovers in record time, wit always at the ready. "Trying to figure me out, are you? Well, I plan to remain cloaked in mystery."

"I like a little mystery." The words come unbidden and embarrassing. But, they startle a bright smile out of Alistair, and she supposes she doesn't mind.

"That's..." he clears his throat, "I'll keep that in mind."

"You're not going to go all stoic on me are you?"

"I don't know. Am I?"

She is facing him now, arms wrapped comfortably around his strong shoulders, his arms snaking around her waist. "Oh no," She laments. "Next I know you'll become the strong, silent type, your abrasive manner juxtaposed with the allure of your manly gaze..."

"_ Hey _, I'm strong! And my gaze is plenty manly already."

"Oh yes, it certainly is. How devastating you must be with the ladies."

His laugh is a little too loud in the night. Winnifred doesn't mind. "They fall at my feet in awe of my manliness." But he sobers then, voice going small. "Though, perchance I've caught the eye of one lady in particular...?"

Her tongue goes dry. They've gone through this - the awkward, fumbling, _ liking each other _ part. They've gone through this, but it still makes her stomach flutter to _ say _ it. "Oh, have you?"

"I hope so."

"Whom might that beautiful lady be?"

"_ Beautiful _ ? Who said anything about _ that _ ? Not _ me _."

"I'm only going off context clues."

His brow raises. "Such as?"

Winnifred bites her lip, buries her fingers in his hair. She is embarrassed to say it, but as his eyes flutter prettily closed, she decides she needn’t say it anyway.

"Well," his voice tremors before righting itself. "She _ is _ rather beautiful. And smart. And..." he looks her in the eye, and she challenges herself to hold his gaze. "... she is the most amazing woman I have ever met in my life."

Her heart makes residence in her throat, stealing her breath away. She tries more than once to say anything, _ anything _ that would portray the emotion that wells in her chest; but, after floundering away under Alistair's regard, all she can manage is a breathless "Oh."

She kisses him then, because the rain is not enough to fill the tense silence that falls between them. His lips are earnest, spurred by the pull of her fingers in his hair, the arc of her spine beneath his palms, the breathy sighs that stir the stillness of the dark. He tastes like freshwater and hearth fire. He tastes like the sweetest freedom she's ever known.

Alistair breaks the kiss first, as if he had to tear himself away. Winnifred’s lips are buzzing, her head foggy, heart racing. They rest their foreheads together as they catch their breath. There's an ache low in her belly. Alistair shifts back uncomfortably, discreetly. She follows, absentminded.

A nervous grin is on his face. "Ha, sorry. That was, uh..."

"She is a very lucky woman." Winnifred brushes her hand along his jaw. He is sweating, and so is she. Her bedding is warm tonight. "She could only dream of a man as wonderful as you."

A firm hand catches her own, and Alistair places a kiss to her palm. Callused fingers curl over hers. "I'm the lucky one." His stare is raw, stirring with unhampered ardor. "You are much more than I'd ever thought to ask for." Winnifred's breath leaves her in a rush for the second time tonight. It's on the tip of her tongue. The words. They're there, and she's choking to get them out. But that's too soon, isn't it? Yes, too soon. _ Much _ too soon. How could she tell him _ that _? How could she say that her orbit hinges on the pretty hazel of his eyes?

Very simply, in fact. Except there's a lump in her throat the size of a fist. She speaks, throat hoarse, "You flatter-"

"I love you," he croaks. Winnifred recoils, all thought abandoning her. Alistair rushes to make amends. "I just - I know it's very soon, but... in the short time I've known you, I've come to... care a great deal for you. More than I wanted to... before... when... we..." his voice peters out as his eyes squeeze shut. He's breathing hard through his nose. "That was... too soon, wasn't it. Or, maybe I shouldn't have said it at all. I'm making a fool of myself."

"No, you're not," she whispers. She doesn't trust her voice. It will say more than she's ready for. But she does trust her words. He gave her the strength for that. "I love you too, Alistair."

Brown eyes fly open. "Really?" He asks, as if she would - _ could _ \- be lying.

Winnifred swallows, finds her voice. "Yes. Yes, I love you. I love you."

He catches her in an eager kiss, swallowing her surprise. She allows herself to follow his lead, to enjoy the moment, and soon her head is swimming from the fervor of his attention and from the release that the confession brought her. The barrier is broken, and everything rushes out like water from behind a dam. She finds herself deepening the kiss, clawing and clinging to his back like she can't breathe without him. Their limbs tangle and hands roam and search the clothed planes of each other's bodies. Alistair groans low in his throat as he buries his hands in her hair. They shift closer, closer, till closer is not enough and Alistair climbs above her, broad frame tense and blocking out even the drumming of the rain. There is nothing but him, nothing but this moment, nothing but the fire that's curling low in her belly and she whines when his hips grind promisingly into hers.

They break apart for air, staring each other down with wide, lust blown eyes. Winnifred's heart pounds against its cage. Is it perhaps fighting to break free of her chest and meet his? In measures, they come down from their excitement, and as the haze clears from the air, they find it in themselves to be bashful. Alistair quickly moves from above her and Winnifred scrambles to her side to face him. Breaths fall heavy between them. They don't touch for fear of burning.

"Sorry," Alistair pants. "That was… a little much."

"Only a little?" Winnifred teases. She wishes her face would stop burning. "Don't apologize. I... I enjoyed it." She bits her lip.

Alistair brushes her hair back from her eyes, gaze disbelieving. "I love you," he sighs. His smile is all bright teeth in the dark, eyes crinkling and sunshine pouring from his being. Winnifred basks in the light of it, can't help but smile as well.

"I love you," She says. She might burst should he keep looking at her like that, like she was the answer to every question he had ever asked. There is a expectant air between them; she tries for humor to lighten the load, "Now, who's going to tell all those misfortunate ladies that their handsome knight is taken?"

His grin turns mischievous. "I'm sure they'll figure it out. Better yet, why don't we show them? I'll take you on a tour all around Ferelden. We can show off our matching outfits and mortifying pet names!"

"A tour? Is that what we're calling it now? And here I thought we were traipsing around the country to combat the Blight."

"That's only secondary to the journey, love."

'Love'. She swallows the girlish giggle that threatens to sound. "Well, that's good to know." She takes his hand and brings it to her face. His thumb strokes across the apple of her cheek.

It's quiet for a bit, the two of them basking in the joy of each other. They listen to the steady cadence of their breaths' rise and fall, of the rain shower meeting the earth; and in the peace of it all, Winnifred finds a sense of profoundness - a sense that for the first time in a long time, all is right.

Shallow breaths become drawn, till they are both on the edge of unconsciousness. Alistair has already begun a light snore. It is somehow pleasant. Winnifred wonders how she had ever slept without it.

She nestles into his chest, breathes his scent. "You're right, you know."

"What about?" Alistair slurs sleepily.

"Everything. How it is secondary to the journey."

He draws her closer with little more acknowledgement than a tired grunt. That's alright. They've a long day ahead of them, full of travel and fighting and... likely a great deal of strife. They'd have each other though, like always. The two of them against the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This fic introduces my canon warden Winnifred Amell to the internet. What do you think of her? What about her dynamic with Alistair? Concrit and comments are appreciated!
> 
> Fun Fact: In the original draft, there was no confession at all. These two took it over because they're bossy like that. Result: the awkwardness saturation increased by 100%.


End file.
